Chapter 99

After finishing lunch around twelve o'clock, I checked the address of the Shadow City Theater Troupe. It would take about 10 minutes by taxi and about 20 minutes on foot.

It was also lunchtime for Bob, and with so many people around, it wasn't a good time to investigate. It wasn't urgent to find him, so I decided to wait until the afternoon work hours.

Thinking of this, I discussed it with Zoey and we decided to walk over.

Although the campus for freshmen and sophomores was in Shadow City, it was far from the city center. The current high-speed rail station was on the east side, and the campus was on the west side. Every weekend and holiday, we would rush to take the bus home.

Shadow City was originally named Trade City. It was said that there used to be a Trade Mountain here. According to the legend, the god of trade came here and saw that the local people had no concept of trade, so he taught them. To commemorate him, the city was named Trade City.

In ancient times, a politician vigorously promoted reforms, fought against slave owners, seized land, emphasized agriculture, and developed military power. He redivided administrative regions, laying a solid foundation for future unification.

Later, the king made this place his fiefdom. Most ancient reformers met tragic ends, and this politician was no exception. His body was chopped into pieces, and his entire family was killed.

Memories turned into history over time, and history took on new forms as time went by.

For that reformer, it had been over 2,000 years. In the midst of history, his contributions and fate formed an inexplicable irony. He masked the brutality of that era with courage and idealism.

For our generation of students, the four years of college passed quickly. We didn't have time to look at this place, and it was soon forgotten. Years later, when we thought of it, it was just a small city.

This city had been abandoned by time for too long. There were very few new buildings on the streets. There were a few decent buildings to decorate the city's facade, but they looked out of place.

Turning a corner from the main road into an alley, there was a steel-welded iron gate with decorative statues on both sides, eroded by rain to the point of being almost unrecognizable. From a distance, we could see two symmetrical windows with marble-painted patterns.

Going deeper, there were signs of demolition, broken bricks and tiles scattered everywhere, collapsed mud walls, and dismantled stages.

The whole city gave me a strange sense of disconnection, as if time had been captured here, chopped into three pieces, displaying the corpses of history and time.

About ten minutes later, we arrived near the Shadow City Theater Troupe. According to the navigation, it should be here, but we couldn't find the location of the troupe. We wandered around for a long time, asking people for directions, and finally saw a sign for the "Shadow City Theater Troupe" on a three-story building in a nearby courtyard.

The white sign with black letters indicated that it was still under government jurisdiction, but the sign was rusty and mottled, making the words hard to read unless you got close.

"Is this... the Shadow City Theater Troupe?" Zoey looked up, glanced around, and asked in disbelief.

Indeed, the theater troupe in the neighboring Silverlight City was funded by the local government, with a building designed by a famous domestic architect. The whole building looked like a blooming mandala flower.

In contrast, Shadow City Theater Troupe was so dilapidated, with just a three-story building and a small courtyard. Compared to the Silverlight City Theater Troupe, it seemed very shabby, but considering the state of Shadow City, it was already quite good.

An old man was on duty in the duty room, who was thin, plainly dressed, wearing black-framed glasses, with gray hair. He was lying on a rocking chair with his eyes closed, resting. There was an ashtray full of cigarette butts, a dirty water cup, and an old-style player connected to Bluetooth, playing Schubert's serenade on a loop.

"The place is a bit shabby, but the artistic atmosphere here is much stronger than that of the Silverlight City Theater Troupe. If I were the leader, I would make those guys come here," Zoey hummed.

"Hello, is Bob Moore in the company?" I knocked on the window.

The old man on duty heard someone talking, responded unhappily, and opened his eyes, seemingly displeased at being woken up from his nap.

"What Moore?" The old man on duty blinked, looking confused as if he hadn't heard clearly.

"Bob Moore," I said.

"What Bob?" The old man on duty tilted his ear, squinting as if he had hearing problems.

He didn't want to answer. He was engrossed in the serenade from the speaker. How could he not hear me?

"Bob Moore!" Zoey couldn't help but shout, throwing her credentials on the table and glaring, "Sir, the police are handling a case. Please cooperate."

The old man on duty was stunned when he saw the police badge.

Seeing Zoey's smug and cunning look, I felt helpless. She had even taken Ruben's police badge.

Ruben was bold, lending such an important item. If something went wrong and we got caught, it wouldn't be a small matter.

But I had to admit, Zoey's trick worked. The old man's attitude immediately changed. He didn't even open the badge, straightened his back, and handed it back to Zoey with both hands. Zoey quickly put it back in her bag, afraid he might get suspicious.

"Miss, hello," the old man on duty greeted formally, then lowered his voice, "Did Bob sleep with someone's daughter again, and her parents went to the police? Are you here to arrest him? It can't be a minor, right? What a scoundrel!"

He spoke with a look of anguish.

Indeed, Bob hadn't changed at all over the years, always involved in romantic affairs, even the duty officer knew.

"It's not a minor, but the girl is determined to marry him. She attempted suicide with sleeping pills a few days ago. We're here to find Bob to mediate the situation, but please keep it confidential and don't reveal our identities," Zoey whispered mysteriously, lying effortlessly, a skill taught by Howard.

The old man on duty nodded vigorously with his eyes closed, then leaned out the window and shouted towards the third floor, "Bob! Bob! Someone's looking for you!"

No response.

He, seeing no answer, looked embarrassed, glanced at us awkwardly, swallowed, cleared his throat, and shouted, "Shadow City's contemporary young artist, soul dancer, the theater troupe's only dancer, someone's looking for you!"